Possessions
by Mythdefied
Summary: Jett reminds Joxer who he belongs to. Slash, twincest, Jett&Joxer.


Author's Notes: I was having a little discussion with **dgcandace** in the commentary for part 3 of the vamp!fic, wherin I thought that Joxer really did exhibit some signs of an abuse victim. He takes whatever Jett does to him -- which borders on real abuse -- and shrugs it off. It's like he grew up with it and thinks it's normal. Normal enough that despite the crappy way Xena and Gabby treat him, it's wonderful compared to what he gets from his family. That's why he puts up with it from them. Now I'm not so sure that's an accurate description of him, but it is one way to view how he reacts to people and how they treat him.

Not too much later, in the same commentary actually, **devinharris** mentioned the kinks of mindfucks and non-con in connection with twincest. I started having...ideas after that.

It was getting on towards two thirty in the morning by the time the ideas started taking on definite shape, so I packed it in for the night.

The ideas hadn't gone away today.

This took longer to write it than it normally would, something this small in size, but the subject matter was disturbing and I had to take breaks whenever my skin started crawling.

This most definitely falls under the heading of "subject matters I will _never_ touch again" because it's just way too creepy in a bad way. Just like a certain Ares/Strife fic I wrote a few years back. But like that one, this fic had to be written for some reason I haven't figured out.

Do I think this could actually have happened between Jett and Joxer? No. This is more of a "what if" type of fic. What if Jett was truly a complete psychopath fixated on Joxer. What if Joxer was an abused child/spouse-type. What if no one cared enough or was too afraid of Jett to stop it.

This takes place when Jett and Joxer still lived at home. I'm not mentioning any ages so imagine them at whatever age is legal where you are.

Not betaed, so all mistakes are mine.

Warnings: Very heavy R. Mental abuse and consent issues, straddling that non-con line.

Disclaimers: I don't own them and even if I did, I don't think I'd want to do this to them.

Archive: My site, my LJ and Joxerotica.

**Possessions**  
by Erin  
November 2004

The sun was warm on his face, shining in through the wide open windows. Such a clear, bright day. Somewhere outside, not too far away children were laughing as they played, so happy and carefree, that sound. Snippets of conversation became audible before disappearing again as people walked up the street, just yards from the window. Wheels and hooves clattered on the stones out there, carts and soldiers going about their business. A normal day. It should've been. But the blood was too red.

It was still spreading out, an ever-widening pool under the limp, glassy-eyed body that had once been Medyr, a slave, and Joxer's friend. Medyr's hair wasn't so blond anymore, not with the dark stain growing beneath his head, the fine hair soaking up the color, and his skin didn't look so pale now either. The deep gash across his slim neck was so wide, gaping, such a deep, deep red, like the splashes of crimson across his arms, his face, a shocked expression permanently fixed there.

Joxer shivered, despite the heat of the sun. His hands were rubbing slowly at his arms and he couldn't stop them, couldn't stop staring. The wall was hard against his back but he still pressed against it, wishing it could disappear and he could run, far away. But there was no escape, not from this. He knew better.

_skrik_ The sound of a blade across a whetstone.

"I can't believe you made me do that, Jox." _skrik_ "I don't even remember the last time I got my blade caught in a spine. Do you have _any_ idea what that does to the edge?" _skrik_ One more careful pull over the stone and Jett held up his dagger, the edge catching the sunlight, gleaming bright and sharp.

"That's better." Jett twirled the dagger once, then slid it into the sheath buckled around his thigh, the whetstone disappearing into a pocket inside his vest.

"You didn't have to do anything, Jett," Joxer said, and it was like someone else was saying the words. He could hear that it was his voice, feel his lips moving, but he didn't feel like it was him saying it. Maybe he wasn't even here at all. Maybe it was someone else, seeing Jett standing over their best friend's body.

Jett looked up sharply, gaze fixing on Joxer. "Didn't I?" He smiled, and it was a chilling thing to see. "I saw what was happening, Joxer. Are you gonna lie and tell me I didn't?"

"You didn't," Joxer said, and suddenly everything seemed more...real. The crawling feeling over his skin, the chill moving through him, the cold bite of fear deep inside, and determination, because he _hadn't_ done anything wrong. Had he?

"We weren't doing anything," he said, licking dry lips. "M--Medyr..." He forced his eyes from the body, forced himself to look at Jett, to meet that remorseless gaze. "He--he was just teaching me a few words from his language."

"Is that right?" Jett cocked his head to the side, his tone becoming calm, reasonable.

Joxer shivered harder and took a completely involuntary step back, or tried to. He was flat against the wall though and the door and window were both too close to Jett; he'd never make it if he tried to run. What was the point anyway? Jett would always find him.

"So he was _teaching_ you, huh? That's what he was doing, looking at you like that, smiling at you?"

"I kept messing up the pronunciation! We just...it was funny, Jett, we were laughing at that." Joxer thought he should be crying now, mourning his friend. He could feel the tears just beneath the surface, wanting so badly to get out, the sobs waiting to come, but they stayed there, just out of reach, and they always would. That was weakness, and Joxer knew he was weak enough already without showing that. Jett would be disappointed--more disappointed if he let that out.

Jett sighed, a long-suffering sound. "Now what've I told you about lying to me, Jox?"

Joxer shook his head in rapid denial as Jett stepped over the body, avoiding the still growing pool of blood as he walked towards Joxer, steps swift and silent. Joxer tried in vain to press himself further into the wall.

"I--I'm not lying, Jett! I'm _not_!"

Jett's hand slammed into the wall next to Joxer's head; Joxer cringed, jumping at the loud slap of flesh against stone.

"Don't tell me I didn't see something," Jett said, voice low, tense as he leaned in, nose brushing Joxer's. "It wasn't just that slave, you were encouraging him, Joxer. Giving him that little smile of yours, looking at him from under those pretty eyelashes. Did you get him to touch you?"

"_No_! It wasn't like that, Jett, I mean it!" Joxer swallowed hard. He wanted desperately to look away from those cold brown eyes, but where to? Jett's eyes filled his vision. "I wouldn't do that, Jett," he said, trying for reasonable, already knowing it was futile. "You know I wouldn't. Because I--I'm--"

"Mine?" Jett pulled back slightly, enough to give Joxer a hint of breathing room. "Because you're mine, Joxer?" Like it was really a question.

"Yes, Jett." Joxer nodded. "I wouldn't do it because I'm yours."

"Maybe." Jett's head tilted to the side again, eyes narrowing. "Or maybe you thought you'd just make sure, see if I'd catch you. Maybe I haven't paid enough attention to you lately." A hard, cold smile.

"No, Jett!" Joxer couldn't get his voice above a whisper. "I--I--I didn't think _any_ of that! I just--we--we were _friends_!"

"Were you, really? You're such a tease, Jox, you know you are." Jett's other hand came up, fingers stroking down Joxer's cheek. "You can't help it. Maybe he just got the wrong message, huh?" Stroking up and down and Joxer wanted to turn away from that touch, but he knew better than to try, it would only make Jett angrier.

"M--Maybe," he admitted, because it was possible, wasn't it? Joxer hadn't _meant_ to send out any signals like that, but maybe he had without knowing it. What if Medyr had wanted to be more than friends, because of something Joxer had done without meaning to?

"Is that what happened, Jox?" Jett's thumb pressed lightly under Joxer's chin, fingers still stroking. "Did you lead him on the way you used to do with me? Did you think maybe he might decide to take what you were offering, like I did?"

Jett's fingers were warm against the chill Joxer felt moving through him. "I didn't--I didn't mean to, Jett, really."

"But you still did it." Jett shook his head, sighing again. "You should know better by now, Joxer. I'm the only one who gets to touch you. When you do stuff like this, well, who's fault is it when people end up dead?"

"Mine," Joxer said quietly. Because it was, it had to be. If he hadn't smiled at Medyr, made him think those things, then he'd still be alive.

"Good." Jett's fingers stilled and he let his hand fall, fingers sliding down Joxer's neck before dropping away entirely. "It's so much better when you don't lie to me, Jox, when you admit what you did wrong. Now you can make it up to me."

Joxer couldn't breathe for a moment, a hard shiver working its way down his spine. But he forced himself to move, to nod before Jett really got angry, thinking Joxer was refusing. "Okay." His voice cracked as he reached for the buckle of Jett's belt.

Jett's hand caught his, wrapping deceptively gently around his wrist. "Uh-uh." Jett shook his head, a tiny smile playing around his lips.

The shiver was back and Joxer had to bite back a whimper. "Jett, not that, please?"

"You say that like you don't enjoy it." The smile became a grin. "Come on, Jox."

Joxer let himself be pulled away from the wall, a few steps over to the small table where just minutes before he'd sat with Medyr, practicing that strange language that Joxer didn't think he could ever bear to hear again. He stopped in front of the table, but Jett didn't.

"No, over here." Jett pulled at his wrist and Joxer went without protest, because that would only make it worse.

"Right here." Jett pulled him around the table, around one of the upended chairs, taking hold of Joxer's shoulder and squeezing it a moment later, Joxer's cue to stop. "Yeah, here."

Joxer stood behind the table now, giving him a good view of the rest of the room, small as it was, of the body sprawled and bloody at the other end of the room.

Jett released his wrist, his hand moving to the middle of Joxer's back. A light push, all the hint Joxer needed. He knew this routine. He bent over the table, bracing himself up on his forearms.

"I don't know why you always wanna give me problems about this," Jett said, tone conversational even as Joxer could hear the unbuckling of a belt, the slide of leather against skin. "You like it. You know that."

Jett was right, he had to be. Maybe it did hurt, maybe a lot, but he always came from what Jett did with him, so he had to like it, didn't he? He still flinched when the bottom of his chiton was shoved up, bit at his lower lip when his loincloth was pulled off.

"You're so pretty like this, Jox," Jett said with a sigh.

Joxer couldn't suppress another shiver when Jett's fingers trailed down his ass, thumb sliding between his cheeks.

"Can't blame anyone else for wanting to see this. But you're mine and no one else gets this, understand?"

"Yes," he said with a nod, hissing involuntarily when fingers pushed into him.

"That's what I want to hear." Jett's voice dropped to a whisper and Joxer felt lips touch the back of his neck, leather brushing the backs of his thighs. His hands were trembling, he realized, and clenched them into tight fists.

"Now be a good boy and keep your eyes open."

Fingers pulling out, hand on his ass, opening him more, and Jett didn't have anything to worry about. There was no way Joxer could close his eyes, couldn't even look away. The blood was just too red.

Fin

(c) 1998-2006, Erin.


End file.
